


Movie Night

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, Shaw should have seen it coming. He's read Chuck's file; he's seen the effects the man has on otherwise rational agents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for/continues directly from 3x05.

In retrospect, Shaw should have seen it coming. He's read Chuck's file; he's seen the effects the man has on otherwise rational agents.

It's one thing to know that Walker and Casey coddle Chuck beyond his role as an asset, but it's a whole other thing to have that too-open smile aimed his way, paired with the sweet sincerity that nobody can fake that flawlessly so it has to be real.

"You can't seriously live down here," Chuck says after his debriefing is over, brown eyes following Shaw around Castle with a concerned look. "It's not healthy. Nobody should live in a bunker." He's very emphatic on that point; it hit a little too close to what could have happened to him, so he thought it was the worst thing possible. Shaw could tell him a half a dozen worse things that he'd already lived through, but then Chuck says, "At least come over for pizza and a movie or something."

"Is that something you do with your handlers?" Shaw asks, and Chuck flashes that grin.

"Actually, yeah, it is." It's a far cry from standard operating procedure, but Operation Bartowski is as non-standard as they come, and in all honesty Shaw isn't all that fond of the decor under the Orange Orange, so he agrees.

Part of the changes since Shaw's taken over involve Walker and Casey being sent off on their own more, too. It only makes sense to use the available agents to their full potential. Chuck apparently takes their current mission status as shorthand for "secret agent bonding time" because when Shaw shows up at Chuck's door a couple hours later, that seems to be the plan: a whole lot of talking interspersed with pepperoni and pineapple pizza and Superman Returns, which Chuck knows a ridiculous amount of trivia about and which Shaw had never seen before. He still can't properly say he's seen it, because Chuck is distracting; Shaw starts timing the silences and comes up with eight and a half minutes as the longest Chuck goes without speaking.

"Did you hear that? They just mentioned Gotham City," Chuck pipes up, "and someone really needs to get a Batman meets Superman film in production because that would kick epic amounts of ass if they did it right."

"And have to deal with two sets of crazed fans instead of just one? I wouldn't want to be that director," Shaw says, earning him a bright smile and an approving nod.

"Excellent point. It would be a challenge, but just imagine what that movie could be..." Chuck stares off into the middle distance; Shaw stares at Chuck, more entertained than he'll ever admit by the true geekiness of the Intersect. Of all the people in the world to get a computer uploaded to their brain, it seems to suit Chuck astonishingly well.

By the time the credits are rolling, Chuck has brought out a set of action figures and is acting out his ideal Batman-meets-Superman scenario. Shaw can't remember the last time he's laughed this much-- it's been years, that much he knows. Then Chuck looks up at him through his slightly ridiculous eyelashes and drops the toys and the music playing over the credits seems jarring and incongruous. "So, Shaw," Chuck says, "Daniel, can I call you Dan?"

"You can." Why not? No one else he sees these days uses his given name. Chuck is too friendly to deny him something so simple.

"Okay, Dan. I wanted to thank you for believing in me. I know I didn't pull off my assignment without help, but--"

"No, don't. You did a great job, Chuck, don't think that needing an assist made you less capable." It's kind of weird knowing that twenty hours ago, Chuck was poisoned and held at gunpoint and now he's as normal as normal gets for him, anyway. It's good for a spy to have that kind of attitude; it proves again that Shaw was right when he said Chuck was ready. "You know that proving yourself just means you'll be getting more missions, and harder ones."

"Yeah. I think I can handle that." Instead of relaxing, though, Chuck goes tenser, and Shaw doesn't need to be a graduate of the Roan Montgomery school of seduction to read a billboard-sized cue that's practically flashing neon letters saying "kiss imminent" as Chuck leans in.

He can't say he just let it happen when he meets Chuck halfway, though.

Chuck's soft lips are sweet, Mountain Dew and pineapple, and the hand that spreads against Shaw's cheek is clammy with condensation from his glass of soda. It's the little details that ground the moment in reality, because this is really happening against the warning in Shaw's head that says _this is how he got to Walker and Casey, now it makes sense_, and even though he should, he's not going to stop. If Chuck wants to play nice, Shaw is game.

Nice isn't the word for it when Chuck nibbles on Shaw's lower lip and slides his other hand up from Shaw's knee, hesitating for a second around mid-thigh before flattening his palm against the front of Shaw's pants. The response is immediate; Shaw can count on one hand the number of people who've touched him since Eve died, and half of those were counter-agents trying to seduce information out of him. Chuck doesn't want anything from him at all, except maybe his approval, and he's already got that.

Maybe things aren't actually as simple as doing this just because they want to, but maybe... just maybe, they are, and that's the hope Shaw holds onto as he threads his fingers through Chuck's curly hair and kisses him back, chasing the sugar-shock flavor on his tongue. From the way Chuck's fingers flex, he likes it, so Shaw does it again, pulling gently on those dark curls as their mouths move together.

"Mmm, hang on," Chuck mutters as he pulls away, and his gaze darts to one corner of the ceiling. "Relocate?" Right, surveillance. Shaw can only imagine what Colonel Casey's reaction would be if he ever saw this footage-- which he won't, because that would just be stupid, to leave evidence like that lying around. Still, it's an excellent idea, and Shaw lets Chuck pull him to his feet.

"When is Morgan coming back?" he asks as they pass Chuck's roommate's room, and Chuck glances at his watch with widening eyes.

"Oh, not until ten thirty. He has to do inventory tonight, so maybe even later than that. Definitely not before." It's not even nine yet. When they reach Chuck's room, there's an awkward moment of staring at each other before Chuck looks down and laughs and reaches for Shaw. "This is okay, right?" he asks with his lips against the line of Shaw's jaw.

"You would know if it wasn't," Shaw says, and thinks about pressure points and sixteen different ways he could make Chuck stop and another eleven ways he could probably get him to hurry up, and then he puts his hands on the relatively neutral location of Chuck's belt buckle.

"Right, yeah, deadly spy," Chuck says without a hint of jesting, "I forgot for a second." He works Shaw's shirt open quickly and runs a gentle finger over the new scar on his shoulder, his eyes going dark and serious for a second. "I won't forget again."

"It's not that important right now. You're kind of a deadly spy too, if you didn't notice." It's not a joke, even if it makes Chuck grin.

It would be easier to strip if they could keep from kissing for more than a few moments at a time, but they get there eventually, bare and tangled together across Chuck's bed. Shaw lets Chuck press him down into the mattress and is rewarded by that clever mouth trailing down his chest, blazing a path of kisses straight down and sliding around his cock without any hesitation. Chuck anchors his hands on Shaw's hips and sucks like he really enjoys it, swirling his tongue around the tip every now and again, making happy little humming noises in the back of his throat.

That brilliant mouth does in a few minutes what hours of torture never could: it breaks Daniel Shaw into pieces. He doesn't cry out when he comes, but it's a narrow thing, and his hands go tight and then slack in the wild curls of Chuck's hair.

"Ow," Chuck says a moment later when he wiggles back up next to Shaw. "Next time go easy on the hair pulling," so easy, like a next time is just a matter of fact, and Shaw actually mutters an apology and pets Chuck's head before he thinks about what he's doing. Clearly he's let his defenses too far down. He can't bring himself to care too much just yet.

He pulls back far enough to watch Chuck's face as he jerks him off with quick steady strokes. Chuck bites his lower lip and closes his eyes and makes it maybe a minute and a half without saying a word, then it's "tighter" and "faster" and "yeah, Dan, just like that," and it's a good thing Shaw likes the way his name sounds on Chuck's lips because he gets to hear it a few more times, caught up in Chuck's unsteady breath and closely associated with "please" and "god, yes." Right before he comes, Chuck opens his eyes, so dark and blissed out that he looks drugged, and one hand closes around Shaw's wrist as he milks a shuddering climax out of him.

"Jesus, Chuck," Shaw says, and he has to repeat himself when Chuck pulls his hand up and licks the sticky mess right off his skin, "_Jesus_, Chuck!"

"No, just Chuck." Chuck bites his fingertips and smiles around them, then adds, "It's only nine fifteen."

"I have a feeling that you have a plan."

"In twenty minutes I'll have a plan. Right now I'll settle for cuddling. Do spies cuddle?"

"The CIA allows for cuddling. I think the NSA might frown on it." Chuck laughs and tosses an arm and a leg over Shaw, sprawling comfortably halfway on top of him. They fit together like lanky puzzle pieces, and Shaw wraps an arm around Chuck's waist and settles in for some serious full-body contact.

Eventually he's going to have to go back to Castle, but for now he doesn't have to think any further than the confines of this bed, and that suits him just fine.


End file.
